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Pavarotti’s Lament
Today I thought I’d do a bit of dusting
And clean the three big armchairs in the lounge.
The way that those two leave things, it’s disgusting.
It’s Pavarotti scrubs, while they just scrounge.
Now, I don’t mean to carp about Carreras,
But while I’m touching up the pinewood glaze,
He’s sat out swatting insects on the terrace—
The only Bs he ever hits, these days.
Who cleaned up last? It must have been Domingo.
What that guy’s hidden, no one else can find.
It’s not as if he’s talented. He’s Ringo,
While I, of course, am John and Paul combined.
Oh sure, we’ve had a few good games of Twister,
That time we all went surfing was a scream.
Just wish I could work out which ugly sister
Keeps hogging all the blankets while I dream.
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